Skin and Bone
by CelticDaemonWitch
Summary: What would have happened if, in the seconds before the clock struck midnight, Jasmine had not pulled Bede's mask off of Lief?


A/N: The Masked Ones fascinate me, and I wish I had Sister of the South, for I'm positive it contains some great secret or another. But since I don't have it, I simply made a whole bunch of things up on my own suspicions and crazy ideas. I guess that makes this story AU. It takes place during the events in Shadowgate, and contains spoilers through to that point. It also opens the story up to a whole bunch of plotholes, but I'll let your imagination fill you in on those. 

I want to thank **angel-kitten-teddy**, who gave me one of the best reviews I have ever gotten, and suggested I write an epic. Since I do not write epics, this was the best I could do, and I hope she is happy with it. I also want to thank **Eva Evans** and **Belle of the Known Galaxy** for adding me to their favorites list, and for all their lovely reviews.

Disclaimer: Does not belong to me, yada yada. I am just being deliberately selfish and borrowing them for an extended period of time. Whether or not I am willing to give them back is what you should be wondering XD

Pairing(s): None. Never thought it could happen, right?

I have only read through Isle of the Dead. I know about Fortuna because a friend saw no harm in telling me. I know about Hira because I read the Book of Monsters. Do not flame me for what I do not know, for they will simply be forwarded to the kitchen to make chicken fajitas.

¤

Skin and Bone

a short story

¤

All was in an uproar.

Jasmine ducked out of the way as a scarlet butterfly swooped towards her head. The acrobat behind her was not so lucky, and screamed in pain as a jet of poison struck him across his face. But despite having once painstakingly balanced herself on his shoulders, she now had no time to spare him any pity. The Happy Vale clock was chiming away, its sound drowned by the people's cries.

She grabbed Lief's arm, and he twisted around to face her. He tore away with a noise of disgust, his eyes flickering wildly back to the Masked Ones, who were engaged in battle with the few reckless barefaces that had braved the scarlet butterflies to reach them. Others had darted away, no doubt to throw their things together for a quick departure.

"Barda!" she cried in frustration. "Barda, help me! He is not in his right mind!"

But Barda had been engaged in a wrestling match by Quill, and did not hear her.

Lief had moved for the inner circle again. "No!" she yelled, snatching at his arm again. "No, Lief! Stay with us!" He stared at her with unfamiliar eyes, uncomprehending.

_Why does the Belt not fight for you?_ she thought angrily, keeping a firm grip on him as he began to struggle once more. _Surely its power is strong enough to silence the mask's_!

A horrible thought struck her. What if...

_No_! she rejected the idea. _Lief would never let that happen_! "Barda!" she roared out loud.

However, right then she felt a rush of magic, saw Barda crumple to the ground out of the corner of her eye, heard Quill's irritated voice, "We told you, Berry of Broome, he belongs to us now!"

Desperately, she pinned Lief's arms to his sides with one arm, raising her free hand to claw at his mask. He struggled against her, moaning with pain as she drew blood. Her stomach turned over when she felt the bubbling substance of the mask beneath her fingers, gluing to her flesh and becoming a part of it. Tears of denial rushed to her eyes as her actions became more urgent.

Then, impossibly, a shadow loomed up behind her. Her head snaked around, and she caught a glimpse of the small-eyed, red-faced man flailing his arms around in pain before one meaty limb struck her square across the head.

She hit the ground hard, and all the air rushed from her lungs.

Her vision of the world around her blurred and then blackened as she lost consciousness, but she heard Filli's wild shrieking in her ear, accompanied by the twelfth, final bong of the Happy Vale clock.

¤

It was damp.

This was the first thing Zerry noticed upon awakening. It was damp, and his muscles ached as if every part of him had been subject to Plug's paddle. Was his stealing the honey bad enough to award so thorough a licking?

He stirred, and abruptly came to realize that he was not on his cot in the orphans' wagon. Panic shot through him, and he began to writhe. He was tightly bound in heavy, muggy cloth. Had somebody decided to play a trick on him and wrapped him up in a rug? If so, he was not finding it very amusing.

From somewhere on his chest, metal links clinked together, and he stilled. Memory came back to him.

The previous night had been all confusion. Something about Bess dying, and masks being molded with flesh and other things Zerry did not care about. There had been enough commotion for him to escape unnoticed, with the goods that Fern had encouraged him to steal from Lewin of Broome. It was a task Zerry had not minded at all, because he had been promised a good amount of gold, and because he held a grudge against Lewin as it was.

He had found the caravan, just as Fern had said, at the Riverdale signpost. He had had to wait until it was almost dawn before the owner came back, and until then, he amused himself by stuffing his pockets with interesting valuables left on the front seat.

The man had a sinister air about him that made Zerry uneasy, but he had been too intoxicated by the idea of being rich enough to return to Rithmere to pay much attention to that. The man, who called himself Laughing Jack, had been very intrigued by the note Zerry had given him, and even a little intimidated. It had made the small boy wonder, albeit briefly, what it said that would make him fearful.

"All right, then, my fine young lad," Laughing Jack had said. "Have a seat right here and I shall get your money."

Looking back, Zerry thought that should have been his warning sign that things were not as they should be, considering the rat-like man had a bulging purse of gold coins on his belt which surely would have covered the price of the jeweled thing that had been brought to him and much much more.

So, next thing he knew, a shadow fell over him, and he barely had the time to register Laughing Jack standing behind him and the flash of a bony grin before the frying pan connected squarely with his skull. And so he woke up here.

But where was here?

There was a continuous roaring that he could not place. Below that, there was the almost homey sound of silverware on a plate and the exhausted snuffling of horses. It was a possibility that he had been taken right back to the Masked Ones, but that did not explain the rushing bellowing noise. It also did not explain why he still had his prize around his neck.

His hands were not bound, so he lifted his shirt to get a better look at the thing he stole.

To his amazement, it was practically glowing. Seven giant medallions were strung together by thin metal. Each medallion was set with a smooth gem that almost gleamed in the pure black of his prison. Yet, not all of them gleamed with the same intensity. One was just faintly pink, the other a green so dull it was grey. He could scarcely see the violet one, or the sparkling clear one, or the one whose color he could not identify as it appeared to be every color and then some. On the other hand, the golden one was glowing steadily.

But there was one that was far brighter than all the others. If not for the fact it was a very dark shade of blue, he guessed it would have been blinding. Impulsively, he pressed his fingers to it. Pleasant warmth shot through his damp limbs, and he almost snatched his hand back in surprise. Was it his imagination, or was the strange midnight gem getting brighter?

Huh. Costume trinket indeed.

Zerry was given no more time to think about it, because right then hands were grabbing him and hauling him up, and a cruel voice was laughing, "Now, I will just dispose of this little vermin, and then we will be off. How do you like the sound of that, you stupid beasts?"

He was jostled for a few more moments, and struggled blindly to no avail. Then, almost impossibly, it was as if the world had been dropped out from under him.

He was falling, falling, the roaring increasing tenfold and drowning out the sound of his own screams. Water pounded against him - _waterfalls_! The roaring had been _waterfalls_- and he blindly clutched the dark blue gem, wishing he was back with Plug and safe, wishing that somebody - anybody- would get him out of this mess.

His fall was abruptly suspended, and the cloth strained. Zerry held his breath, wondering if he had been dashed upon sharp rocks and it had all happened so fast he had not felt a thing. But no, surely dying would feel a little bit more differently than this. His heart was pounding. At least, he thought it was his heart. In truth, it sounded more like wingbeats. It was difficult to hear over the noise of the waterfall, which was not quite as overpowering as it had been moments before.

He yelped in alarm as he found himself flying through the air once more. But there was much less abandon about it this time, as if he was being carried. Hardly a heartbeat later, he felt cold rock against his back.

Then the cloth around him ripped as easily as if it was paper. He got a glimpse of what he could have sworn was a wicked curved claw before he was violently tossed forward. His shirt was torn to shreds on the sharp rocks that broke his fall.

He was in a giant cave. Its entrance was covered by a massive, spinning wall of water. It was dim, and he could barely make out the shape of anything, even his own hand. His head was reeling. What had just happened?

A fierce bellow sounded behind him, and he screamed, lurching forward instinctively before whirling around. Just barely, he made out the silhouette of something gigantic. Something angry. A flat pair of eyes gleamed like stars against a canvas of darkness.

"Who are you?" the creature roared, lips drawing back over a fearsome pair of teeth in a snarl of fury. "How dare you come here? You are not the King of Deltora! You are a boy of Rithmere!"

Trembling, Zerry gabbled, "It is not my fault! I was just doing what I was told! Fern said -"

"You! You presume to wear the Belt of Deltora around your neck like it is a prize!"

His mind ground to a halt. _What_?

Then Zerry realized two things at once. One, it was talking about the costume trinket that he was still clutching onto, now exposed in full light. The Belt of Deltora? But that made no sense. Why would Fern tell him to steal it? Or even, why was it on Lewin of Broome in the first place? As far as he had heard, it was in Del, with the king, where it belonged. Secondly, the creature towering over him was...

"Dragon!"

¤

"You seem troubled, young Lewin."

Lief glanced up, and before he could stop himself was saying, "I am not -" before an unexplainable rose in the back of his mind and quelled the instinct, reminding him, _Travel hidden_. The statement of his real name died on his lips. He shook the disquieting feeling it left off. _I am Lewin of the Masked Ones now. Whatever my past was means nothing compared to _this. _This is where I belong_.

He looked up to meet the curious, blue-gray gaze of the lizard-masked magician he had seen practicing with Zerry the night Fern died. Behind him, several of the inner circle turned away quickly, pretending that they had not just been staring at him.

Lief glanced down, feeling very alienated and even more lonely than before. His dinner lay forgotten before him. Unconsciously, he began twisting the carved, golden ring that he still wore. It was closed once more, its powder chamber empty of any trace of the poison that had turned against its keeper. No one had offered to refill it, though he would have refused anyway. He had spent most of the day by himself, doing whatever job was passed his way.

The lizard man settled beside him, snorting with contempt. It took Lief a moment to realize that the snort was not directed at him, but at the others. "So that is how it stands. I had forgotten, young Lewin, how coldly they treat those who are not of the old families. They once treated me in the same way."

Lief glanced at him in surprise, and the blue-silver eyes flickered with something akin to kindness, if any still existed among the Masked Ones. "My name is Talon. I once had a different name, but I have long since forgotten it. I grew up in a small town that was secluded from almost all other civilization. I was the village brat and orphan, and did odd jobs for people in return for a few scraps of food. I was eighteen when the Masked Ones came to us. They were lost, and desperate for any source of income. So they performed for us. Later that night, I was paid very handsomely by a merchant who had followed them to us, in return for gaining the secrets of the adulthood masks. So I broke into the leader's caravan, and came across her brewing the purebond roots. Frightened, she knocked me unconscious with her sorcery. When I woke, the others of the inner circle were with her. They were all speaking a different language, but eventually I understood that they were afraid to let me go, because of what I had seen. So, they held me captive until the adulthood masks had been completed, and made me a member of the inner circle."

He touched his green, scaled mask almost bitterly. "Everyone was cold to me. It was many years before they relaxed enough to really accept me. Now, it is like I am one of them, and only occasionally do they remember that I am not descended of the old families."

Lief's heart sank. How many years would it take for them to accept him? He did not know if he could stand all the whispers and angry looks without going mad from the loneliness. Especially considering it was after the arrival of him, his uncle, and his brother that things began to go wrong for the Masked Ones.

To get these thoughts out of his mind, he asked, "What are the old families?"

Talon looked at him in surprise. "Has no one told you yet? No, I suppose not," he answered himself, before Lief could, his eyes glazing over. "There has been so much to do since we lost more than half of our number..."

He turned back to Lief. "I trust you are familiar with the story of Adin?" At the young boy's confused nod, he continued, "Then you know that Adin and his Toran wife, Zara, had five children all together. The eldest, Brandon, became king in Adin's steed. The second, Falkred, became a distinguished philosopher in Tora. The third, Yasmi, had a dream of being the revered warrior woman of the northwest, and eventually settled in Lees. The fourth, Rikkiana, believed herself to be a woman of the people, married a traveling Toran craftsman, blew complex figures out of glass for a living, and her descendents are now scattered in the towns between Del and Tora. The fifth and last, Milton, had no inspiring idea of what he wished to be. His secret desire was to be king, but unless every member of his family died, it would not happen. He was a wonderful musician and talented with his hands. His friends were all palace acrobats.

"Milton fell in love with Brandon's chief advisor, a woman whose name has slipped away from me at the moment. She told him frequently that her first loyalty was to Brandon, and because of that there could never be anything between them. Then, one night, she came to him in tears and told him that Brandon was ordering him out of the palace, thinking him a threat to her duties as his confidant. Milton fled the city, fearing Brandon would do something rash against him. But no matter where he went, there was always somebody who recognized him, and he would be forced to run away again.

"Eventually, somewhere north of the Os-Mine Hills and east of Hira, he came across a woman harvesting purebond roots. She wore such an elaborate mask that he took her for part-animal at first, and her speech was so mutilated that he did not understand her. Through frantic hand gestures, she got through to him that she was just a normal woman. Born in Tora, she and her brother had been born with horribly disfigured faces, hence the strange language, which has become the secret tongue of the Masked Ones. She wore the mask to hide her malformities, and was here to make one for her brother as well.

"She offered to make one for him, as well, to keep others from identifying him. Their plan worked perfectly. Milton, along with the woman and her brother, became wandering minstrels and magicians, and gathered many admirers who had no clue who they really were. The old families are the true descendents of Milton and the mask-maker woman, Thorn, and Thorn's brother and his wife, a farmer of Hira who had saved him from being devoured by a colony of rats once."

Lief sat in stunned silence. He had not guessed, even in his wildest dreams, that the Masked Ones could be descended from Adin. They were, in their own rights, heirs to the kingdom as well. Though, between all the descendents of Adin's other children, they scarcely had any chance for the throne. _No wonder they hate the royal family so much... That must have been bred into them from Milton's own wronged feelings_.

He did not have the faintest idea why this knowledge made him so sad.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to answer, for Talon was beginning to look curious again, by the shouts of the children. A caravan was approaching, and he could hear the sounds of bells jingling and an odd, lilting singing.

Talon leapt to his feet. "Ah! It is the strange peddler, Steven! Perhaps you have seen him before. I heard Broome was one of his yearly stopping points, and his biggest supply of anything fish-related." His eyes grinned as Lief self-consciously tugged his fishy jacket tighter around him.

Rust and Quill came bustling out of Bess's caravan to go meet the peddler, quickly brushing their peeling hands off on their uniforms. After a moment of being nagged by his memory, Lief realized that the elder duo had been working with the sticky purebond roots, and that was why they had not been there for dinner.

Steven both warmed Lief and frightened him, though again he could not place why. Sure, he was a large fellow, and traveled alone, but surely he was not dangerous?

He was laughing, standing beside his horse as the children nervously approached her. She bent her head, nickering softly, nudging them one by one. Faces quickly changing to delight, they patted her nose and stroked her mane in turn. Steven looked at the Masked Ones that had gathered silently around him.

"Greetings! What a pleasant surprise to find you in these parts. Though..." his eyes fell on Rust. "Has something happened? You all seemed disheveled... and surely there are less of you than the last time I parted company with you."

The fox-faced woman shrugged, as if it was nothing. "Circumstances beyond our control. What do you have to trade, peddler? I fear it is high time we did business with someone outside the troupe, for everything is in short supply these days."

Steven nodded briskly, turning away from his horse and moving to the back of his caravan. As he undid the locks, he scanned the group, golden eyes alight with curiosity. When his gaze met Lief's, his hands abruptly stilled, his eyes going wide. His lips moved, as if he was going to say something, but at that moment Rust - who had her back turned to Steven - spoke up sharply, "Talon, Shell, Lewin, go through the spare wagon. Bring back anything you think we might be able to trade."

Grateful for the distraction, Lief did as he was bade. He followed Talon and a woman with the fearsome face of a sea monster to the wagon that had once been Otto's and then his. Everything that did not belong to someone or had no use to the Masked Ones in any other wagon had all been hastily thrown into this one.

Lief found several empty glass jars, a crossbow embedded with jewels, and the tidy uniforms that had been worn by the dog acrobats. It was fine material, and Lief wondered for a moment what the acrobats were wearing if the Masked Ones had stolen their uniforms back.

When Talon emerged from the wagon, Lief was astounded to see that he carried two packs, two swords, and a dagger. One of the swords he recognized as his.

The lizard-man grinned. "Remember these, eh? They belonged to your uncle and your brother."

"But Jay was not really your brother, was she?" Shell asked sharply, making Lief jump. An image of a girl with brilliant green eyes and a slender face framed with wild black hair sprung unbidden to his mind, bringing with it feelings of unsettling happiness and wrenching guilt. He felt extremely unsettled, as if he knew he was supposed to be somewhere else. More than that, he felt it was too dangerous to answer. _Travel hidden_.

"I would prefer to keep my sword, if you please," he said to Talon, ignoring Shell all together, but the magician shook his head.

"You do not need it anymore, young Lewin. Quill will make you a new weapon, as all of the inner circle possess. Besides, Steven might pay a high price for it. It truly is a fine piece of metalwork."

Lief had very little to argue with, so he kept his head down and quietly fumed. For some reason, he highly detested the idea of giving up his sword. There was something special about it... something he could not quite remember.

_What is wrong with me_? he thought, turning his fury on himself. _It does not matter what I do or do not remember. I am with the Masked Ones! I will never have to claim kinship to ugly barefaces again_!

As Talon had predicted, Steven was most amazed by Lief's sword, as well as the other weapons. He exchanged six jars of honey for them, along with the packs that had belonged to Berry and Jay, though curiously he wished for nothing else, though Lief and Shell also brought tradeworthy items.

When the strange peddler parted company with them, he seemed preoccupied and concerned, fidgeting in his seat. Frequently, he would shoot looks at Lief, though he could not imagine why. Maybe it was because he was new, and Steven somehow knew the Masked Ones did not usually initiate adults that had not been raised with them since childhood.

They waved after him until he disappeared from sight, bells jingling. Lief stood where he was, while the others began to filter back towards the campfire. The children's spirits seemed heightened, and even the adults were less tense than before, but something was bugging him. It was getting frustrating, and he was heartily sick of the feeling. He viciously twisted the ring on his finger.

Talon jostled his shoulder. "Cheer up, bird-face! Rust has just announced that since it is the night of the full moon, we will celebrate your initiation into adulthood and full responsibility of a part of the inner circle, although there was no ceremony. And besides, it is high time we all heard you sing!"

¤

Zerry was shivering wildly.

After a long discussion that mostly consisted of the midnight-blue dragon bellowing questions and Zerry answering in terror, the ancient beast of old had announced that it was starving, and could think all this through better on a full stomach. Informing the boy that if it came back and found that he had so much as twitched a muscle, it would take him right back to where he had been found - suspended in midair.

Freezing cold and never more scared in his entire life, Zerry tried to make sense of what the dragon had told him. Of course, he was still struggling with the idea that dragons were not extinct. The rest of it - them being persuaded into an enchanted sleep by a famous madman, only to be woken when the true king came with the Belt of Deltora, Lewin being in possession of the Belt, Fern suggesting that he steal it, the actual process of stealing it and awakening of the dragon - was a bit harder to swallow.

But no matter whether or not he accepted it, the dragon obviously expected them to do something about it.

At that moment, a shadow fell across the waterfall that blocked the cave entrance, and the dragon of the midnight sky burst through in a fountain of spray that successfully made the boy more soaked than he already was.

Fixing its flat eyes on him, the great creature breathed a hissing sigh. "You have not tried to escape," it said. "I am impressed, boy of the Mere."

Zerry cleared his throat awkwardly, trying not to seem like he was pressing back against the rocks as every instinct told him to flee. "Erm. Thank you, I guess."

It absently groomed itself with its sickle-moon claws. "Now that my belly is full of crunchy Sand Beast, it is time for us to find that king of yours. And to warm you up," it added, almost with amusement.

In what seemed like no time at all, the dragon, with Zerry on its back, exploded from the thundering mouth of the waterfall cavern, which Zerry would later identify as the Funnel. Laughing Jack was gone, through the remains of his campfire was still there, looking sadly abandoned.

After getting rid of the first moments of terror he had felt when he realized just exactly how high up they were, Zerry discovered he rather liked flying. It was almost like riding horseback, only he had more to lose if he fell now. Leaning forward, he shouted over the voice of the Funnel, "Lewin is one of the Masked Ones now! They would have fled southeast, to Purley. They were planning on performing there, and they still would have, even without their fairly large number of bareface hanger-ons. Surely -"

"You are much easier to understand when you are composed, boy of the Mere."

"I am just cold!" Zerry retorted.

The dragon snorted. "Unfortunately, the dwellingplace that you call Purley is in the territory of the opal."

"So?"

"So!" the beast growled, as they continued to hover there. "I swore to Dragonfriend that I would not enter the territory of another dragon while it was asleep."

Zerry blinked. He had forgotten that. It seemed almost impossible that there could be more of the terrifying creatures still around, asleep or not. Almost unconsciously, he pressed his hand to the great midnight gem on the Belt of Deltora that hung around his bare chest. It was blazing as bright as the golden one now, and he noticed that the pink one had turned a deep, rich red, and wondered about it.

The dragon stirred under him. "Of course," it muttered, looking back at him with his hand pressed to its twin gem. "I also owe it to the king to get the Belt back to him. Foolish human, I do not see how he managed to loose it in the first place..."

Zerry grinned at this. "I am just too good for him," he said cheekily.

It snorted again, and now he realized that it was the dragon's way of a humorless laugh. "And in doing so, silly boy, you robbed him of the thing necessary to heal this land with."

Zerry blinked. "I do not understand," he said after a moment.

"The land is sick, boy of the Mere. Can you not feel it? It has grown to a horrible state while I was asleep. But the core of the trouble is not in my land, but in the north, where I cannot go. To solve either problem, I would have to break my oath."

His head spun. He still did not really understand, but already the dragon was talking again, voice almost cheerful. "But perhaps the dragons of the opal and the emerald are dead. And now that I am awake, it is fitting I do something for the king that was in my territory long enough to waken me, however briefly."

It turned its head back, eyes gleaming and its teeth bared in a smile. "And those who have harmed him shall soon know how truly terrible the dragon of luck can be. Which way do we fly, boy of the Mere?"

In moments, they were shooting through the sky, like a star falling to the earth. Zerry's hair whipped behind him, goosepebbles defined clearly on his bare skin, eyes watering. But he did not dare to close them. It was all too much, seeing the countryside blow past. It was somewhat disheartening, though, since most of it was sickly and stunted. He thought he understood what the dragon had been talking about now.

All too soon, he saw the familiar painted wagons of the Masked Ones, and it sent a chill down his already frozen body. A fair distance away from them, the dragon swooped into a dizzying landing. Zerry all but tumbled from its back. Grass had never felt so heavenly. Flying was all right, but he believed having his own two feet on the ground was much better.

Without waiting for him, the dragon had begun to stride towards the camp, claws making huge rips in the earth.

"Wait!" Zerry cried. The beast of midnight paused. He took a deep breath, "Let me do this on my own. After all, it really is my fault Lewin had no protection against them. I should be the one to correct it."

The dragon eyed him for a long moment. Then it said, its voice quietly dignified, "It seems I have misjudged your heart, boy of the Mere. You are far more honorable than I thought. Very well. I shall leave you to it, and may good fortune be with you."

Zerry nodded, though he did not really feel that honorable, and turned away, but then the dragon's voice rumbled forth again.

"If you need my aid... I will come if you call for the dragon of the lapis lazuli.

"Call for... Fortuna."

¤

Bending down, Jasmine picked up a small rock and then threw it, as hard as she could, into the distance. She smiled with satisfaction when she heard it thump to the grass a fair ways away.

Barda sighed, "What did that pebble do to you, Jasmine?"

She did not dignify him with a reply. Almost a full day had passed since the Masked Ones had stole Lief away from them. Or he had freely chosen to go away than stay with the ones he loved - she could not really decide which it was. Only a few harebrained ideas on getting him back had been exchanged between herself and Barda, and now it just seemed like catching up to them would be a victory all by itself.

They had nothing, not even their weapons, asides from the dagger that was kept hidden. Jasmine's throat was parched, the back of her head ached from where she had been hit, and Filli had refused to come out of his safe refuge beneath her collar. Kree was far ahead, scouting for signs of the Masked Ones. He was sure that they were heading in the right direction, and that was really the only thing they had to go on.

When Barda had demanded to know why the Belt had not stopped the mask of adulthood from dominating Lief, Jasmine had reluctantly told him what she had found out the night before, seconds before she lost consciousness.

Lief had not been wearing the Belt.

"Are you sure?" Barda had asked, with a surprising amount of desperation in his voice. It scared her, to hear his voice shake like that. "Perhaps -"

"Barda, if he had been wearing it, do you think we would be here right now?" Jasmine had cried, and that had been the end of that.

They had said very little, other than to discuss the safety of the shrunken wild berries they had came across, and the strain between them was rather obvious.

They walked on, Jasmine with her head down and Barda staring focusedly ahead. Suddenly, he stopped, and Jasmine almost ran into him.

Cutting off her sharp remark, he asked, "Do you hear that?"

Scowling, Jasmine concentrated. Immediately, her ears picked up the sound of bells jingling, the creaking of caravan wheels, and two familiar voices singing a silly tune. Kree screeched.

She shrieked. "It is Steven!" And took off at a run. Knowing better than to question her - for he could not really hear much more than the hoofbeats - Barda followed, in a much more serene trot.

Steven drew his horse up when he spotted them coming towards him, the song dying on his lips. He was not smiling, which was a first. He took in the sight of them, dirty and without the smallest scrap of supplies, and did not say a word. When they came to a halt beside him, panting and eyes fixed upon his face, he sighed and dismounted. "I thought I might find you, if I continued along this path long enough."

"Steven!" Jasmine cried without pretense. "When you came this way, did you happen to pass a string of caravans run by people in masks, by any chance?"

A smile twitched at Steven's beard. "Yes, I came across the Masked Ones. Traded with them, in fact. Their circumstances were quite suspicious, and they had the most interesting fellow with them."

Hesitating, Jasmine inquired, "Did they call him Lewin, by any chance?"

Steven sighed, running a hand through his golden hair, "So my old and tired eyes were not deceiving me. It was difficult to tell, because of the mask. But when they offered me your weapons and packs, there was no doubt in my mind."

Barda straightened, "You have our belongings?"

The giant peddler nodded, moving to the back of his caravan. "Traded well for them, too." He threw open the doors and clambered inside. Barda bellowed with relief when he returned and handed him his sword. He strapped it on with the air of one who was never going to let it out of his sight again.

Jasmine took back her dagger, the one Doom had given her when she was very small, and hugged it close for a brief moment before putting it back in its sheath.

Steven's eyes flickered between the two of them. "Now, I believe, you two owe me an explanation."

So they told him the whole gruesome story, filling in where the other's memory faltered. The peddler's eyes grew darker and darker the longer they talked. His fists clenched, and a vein stood out in his neck as he fought down the fury that was sure to call Nevets, his savage brother, into existence.

Finally, his eyes opened and he looked at them. "So the Belt was taken from him. That was why it was so easy for the mask to seduce him." His brows suddenly furrowed with thought. "Do you think it was stolen from him?"

Jasmine blinked. "_Stolen?_ How could it have -"

"Shortly after departing the Masked Ones, I met a young lad on the road. He had a cunning look to his eye, and he asked me if a certain Lewin of Broome was in the camp. Said he had something of great importance to return to him."

Understanding struck Jasmine like a thunderbolt. "Zerry!"

Barda's eyes went wide, then he frowned. "That little thief? Why would he bother returning the Belt, if it he stole it at all. Surely he would be far away by this point, having sold the Belt off to the first servant of the Shadow Lord willing to pay a high price for it."

Jasmine shrugged carelessly. "Who knows?" She turned bright eyes to Steven. "I have a plan."

At first, Steven flatly refused to do anything of the sort. Jasmine argued earnestly, and after a time, he reluctantly gave in.

"Very well," he said, as he swung back up onto the front seat of the caravan. "I shall see you shortly. Good fortune!"

Jasmine and Barda raised their hands in reply, and then set off in the direction of the Masked One's camp.

¤

The next morning, while Lief sat out by the blackened remains of the campfire, scrubbing the dishes after breakfast, a sharp screech attracted his attention. Setting the bowl down and shaking his cleaning rag out, he glanced around for the source of it. A blackbird was perched in the tree above him, and fixed him with a cunning golden eye that seemed to pierce right through him. Lief frowned at it.

"I seem to recall seeing that bird somewhere before," came Rust's cool voice from behind him. He jumped. She had a habit of sneaking up on him out of nowhere.

He made a faint noise of agreement as the fox-woman sat down next to him, gathering the clean dishes up and placing them next to her. Then, casually, she picked up one of the rags and pulled her long knife out. As she cleaned it, she looked over at him, and seemed to shiver. "It is still unsettling, to see you in Bede's mask. As I am sure you have heard, you do look amazingly similar to him."

Lief raised a hand to touch his face, surprised when his fingers met feathers. He had almost forgotten all about the adulthood mask. "I did not ask to be."

Rust's voice sharpened. "Surely you do not miss being an unpleasant bareface?"

"Of course not!" Lief's mouth answered for him. _Nothing is better than to being with my family, here with the Masked Ones_.

The fox-woman softened. "Soon we will be in Purley, Lewin, giving our first performance. Then you shall know how truly wonderful it is to be a Masked One. Although I think you got a taste of it last night."

Lief smiled ruefully.

Suddenly, Plug crashed through the supplies stocked around the campfire, sending cups and cutlery rolling, heaving for air as if she had run a long distance. Rust sprung to her feet with a cry, just as the frog woman gasped out, "Rust! Come - quickly! There - is something - wrong - with the water! Worms! It - leaves blisters - wherever - it touches!"

Memory jolted Lief, from the notice on the Happy Vale board, about not drinking the water from the fountain. Rust was apparently thinking along the same lines, because she whispered an oath, crossing over to Plug in three long strides. Pausing, she bent down to whisper something in the frog-woman's ear. Lief only caught snatches of it, "Shell... eye on... blackbird. Be alert... trouble."

And then they both strode off, leaving him quite by himself, with his stack of dishes that still needed to be cleaned and Rust's knife.

The blackbird screeched again, and he pondered whether or not he should throw something at it. It still had not taken its eyes off of him. "Do you know something, then, of the poisoned water?" he demanded of it crossly. "I am sure none of the Masked Ones were foolish enough to fill their water flasks with that from the Happy Vale fountain! We all read the notice!"

"Some of us cannot read," said a quiet voice.

Lief jumped, and twisted around. Standing where Rust and Plug had been moments before was a small, thin boy with a clever face and slanted, flashing eyes.

"You are the polypan thief! The one who likes horses and stole the honey!"

The boy nodded, unimpressed by the quick recognition. "My name is Zerry, and I stole more than that." He approached Lief carefully, as if taking one wrong step would spell disaster. "I took something from you the night they made you one of them. I ran away, to sell it to the man Laughing Jack, as Fern instructed me to. Only I met a most interesting creature, who brought me back here to set things right." He was reaching inside his shirt, and a sudden feeling of dread fell like a stone into the bottom of Lief's stomach. "Even now, your uncle and your brother are distracting the Masked Ones, and the strange peddler Steven has switched their water with that from the Happy Vale fountain, to stop them from trying to make you stay with them."

The young thief pulled from the folds of his shirt a long, snaky thing that gleamed many colors in the dawn light. "Do you recognize this, King of Deltora?"

A feeling of hatred so profound that black dots exploded in his vision sprung up in Lief, and he jumped to his feet, bowl slipping from his hands and shattering on the ground. Every thought fled from his head, except for one ringing feeling, to protect the Masked Ones, his people, his only family, from the horrible, cursed thing that was the Belt of Deltora.

He lunged for Rust's knife.

¤

Lewin of Broome had the sword in his hand.

Zerry felt his heart stop dead. He should have expected something like this to happen. Quickly, he tucked the Belt out of sight again, and in the same movement drew the dagger that Jay had given him just outside the camp, when he was debating with himself whether or not to face Plug and go on inside. The frog-woman had simply rolled her eyes at him when he had showed up in line with the other orphans and told him he would be last in line for supper for three weeks as punishment, which Zerry thought was extremely nice, for Plug. It beat the paddle, anyway.

Lewin attacked, and thrilling on pure instinct, Zerry ducked out of harm's way. But already the man had twisted to meet him, and it was by sheer luck that the small boy kept himself from having his head chopped off. The dagger felt heavy and unstable in his grip, as if it knew it was not in the hands of its true master.

Lewin moved like he had been born with that knife in his hand. _Yet, it is not his best,_ the very small part of Zerry that was still calm said treacherously._ The mask has made him crazy, and it is not his usual weapon. He is not fighting with everything he has_.

Abruptly, Lewin sprung forward, sweeping the sword up to make Zerry move to block it from that direction, before twisting it away and bringing it perfectly level with his chest. Caught off guard, Zerry just barely managed to avoid being sliced in half, his arms straining as he was born to the ground. Pinned helplessly, the thief unconsciously moved one hand for the Belt as Lewin raised his sword for the crazed, fatal blow.

Perhaps it was chance that his fingers brushed the topaz, at the very center of the Belt.

Lewin faltered in his downward swing as silver mist rushed in to close around them. Zerry felt as if his mind was a thousand times sharper. The fear was there, but it was held at bay by calm reason. The voice above him was sudden and hoarse with shock, although the feathered face it belonged to remained as stoic as ever, "_... clears the mind and opens doors to the spirit world_."

As if on cue, a strange presence filled Zerry, brimming with an energy and power unlike anything he had ever felt before, making him feel like he was ten times bigger than he really was. At the same time, it was like someone had thrown him right back into the Funnel, and he shivered violently.

Then, amazingly, the hand that was holding the dagger twisted up to stop Lewin's knife in the blink of an eye. Only... it was not a dagger anymore.

It was a sword, gleaming ghostly silver in the early morning light. It seemed to have no weight, although a jolt shot through Zerry when their blades connected all the same. Lewin murmured in surprise.

And then he was on his feet, spinning around and returning for another attack. His body completely out of his control, Zerry was there to meet him, blow-for-blow. His balance as perfect, and he mirrored every piece of footwork that Lewin made. He was no longer on the defensive - in fact, he was the one administering most of the attacks now, and Lewin was just barely managing to parry them.

Suddenly finding his back pressed against the side of a wagon, Lewin swung his blade up to block an attack from Zerry, bringing them body-to-body, much to their surprise. It was as if they were eye-to-eye, although the young thief knew for a fact he was just scarcely taller than Lewin's waist.

He felt a mocking smile twist his lips as dark green eyes narrowed from behind the magnificent blue mask.

"Who are you?"

And then Zerry knew. How, he could not say, but the information flowed into him like a spout that had been turned on full blast. He thought perhaps it had something to do with the mist that was still hovering around them like a second skin, possessing him.

Brid of Del had grown up in the city streets, fending for himself and his two smaller sisters. Grey Guards had killed his rebellious parents the night the Shadow Lord came, on Brid's seventeenth birthday. Despite being practically full grown, no one would take him in for work, and he was constantly treated with cold suspicion in those long, dark years after the chaos had simmered down in the streets of Del. To put bread on the table, he performed tricks with knives, and his sisters made dolls from scraps of cloth in the form of mythological creatures. It was many years before his hands became light and talented enough with sharp objects to keep from adding to the scars that riddled his flesh. After he and his sisters were seized and taken to the Shadowlands, his ability with any form of weapon became his key to survival. Later, when he had been freed and his time of mourning for his lost family over, those same skills got him accepted into the palace guard, since most of the old guard had been killed. His first big assignment was to lead the king's long-delayed tour of the kingdom.

Brid of Del was dead.

Zerry's lips were moving, saying words Brid longed for somebody to hear, "Now no one can say I was not loyal to my king."

And then, with liquid ease, he knocked Rust's knife out of Lewin's hands, and brought the hilt of his own sword hard around the other man's head, causing him to slump, unconscious, against the wagon.

As suddenly as it had come, the silver mist was gone, taking the spirit of Brid of Del with it. Zerry was unceremoniously dropped to the ground next to Lewin's sprawled form. His body hummed with nervous tension after being controlled as thoroughly as he had, although it had saved his life. His mind was still surprisingly clear.

Right then and there, he made a promise to himself never to touch the topaz again.

¤

Kree had seen it all.

He had been perched here, in the tree that overlooked the campfire, since the night before. They had decided not to carry out their plan while the sun was sleeping, because the light of the rounded egg-moon would make them easy targets. He had uneasily remained where he was when the fur-faced woman had called the scarlet butterflies to their posts around the camp.

Jasmine had told him to keep an eye on Lief once he found him. If not him, then Zerry, who was sure to lead him to Lief eventually. Right now, if Kree's assessment of the green-faced woman's wild gibberish was on its mark, Jasmine and Barda were fighting the inner circle, who were bound to be much weaker now that the sick water would be taking its effect.

Stiff wings creaking in protest, Kree lifted off of his branch and glided down to where Lief and Zerry lay in the mud after their strange fight. He landed on the arch of a wagon wheel, surveying them with one eye. Their fur was in complete disarray, but the smaller boy was groaning and getting unsteadily to his feet. The Belt still glittered from beneath the shirt that the bee-man, Steven, had given him.

Filling his lungs out, Kree called out to report to Jasmine what had occurred, when suddenly Zerry hollered a warning, and something large and wearing the terrifying face of a sea monster leapt out of the shadows and swept him up into a sac, and all was silent.

¤

Jasmine's head was throbbing when she finally came to. It did not stop her from immediately becoming aware of every part of her surroundings. She and Barda were sitting back-to-back, their hands bound firmly together with twine. The big man was unmoving, a dark red bruise evident over his eyebrow. As far as Jasmine could tell, he was otherwise uninjured, but his pride would be suffering for a day or two. He had been so certain the Masked Ones would not get the better of him this time.

The inner circle had them surrounded.

Upon seeing Jasmine sit bolt upright, a woman who had the mask of a toothy fish that she could not recognize stepped forward and tossed something into her lap. Fury shot through her when she heard Kree's protesting squawk. Yet, in her present state, she could do nothing to free him, and it felt like an insult. Kree had done nothing to them!

Rust was speaking. "Look, Lewin! Your family has come to rescue you! How foolishly brave!"

Jasmine glanced around, and her heart leapt when she spotted Lief on the other side of the circle, shaky on his feet and half-supported by the lizard-faced magician she had met their first night with the Masked Ones. At Rust's words, he raised his feathered head indignantly, and her blood ran cold when she heard him say, "Barefaces? My family? You are mocking me again, Rust."

The fox-woman laughed, "In that case, what do you suggest we do with them?"

Jasmine frowned while Lief thought about it. Why did Rust suddenly care what he had to say about anything? Last she had been able to tell, the elder woman detested the very idea. Why change now?

Then she spotted the carved, golden ring on Lief's finger.

"Let them go," he said reluctantly. "They have not tried to kill any of us, simply slow us down and grievously annoy us. Enchant them, if you wish, and then leave them in our dust. Perhaps then they will learn their lesson."

A few of the inner circle made disappointed noises. Rust nodded stiffly, and then half turned to say to the young boy beside her, "Zerry, untie them. Then, if you ask nicely, Plug will give you back your mask. She was kind enough to save it when you ran away."

Jasmine blinked in surprise when the small thief ducked around her and trotted up to them. He refused to meet her questioning eyes. It was plain to tell by his face that he knew he had failed, and she did not try to hide her contempt. His nimble fingers were shaking, and fumbled on the sharp wire that held her and Barda's hands together. The big man was stirring and mumbling to himself. Rust narrowed her eyes at the apprentice magician's feeble attempts, then scoffed and turned away.

At that moment, Zerry's whole act seemed to change. Out of the sight of all the Masked Ones, his fingers moved deftly, quickly over the wire. This was the Zerry she knew.

Suddenly, he pressed something into her hands. Her dagger, she thought with surprise, fingers running over the familiar hilt. And something weighty was slyly being looped underneath her sleeve. _The Belt,_ Jasmine realized with growing amazement. _He has given me the Belt_. Lips barely moving, Zerry hissed into her ear, "You are free of the twine. When I give the signal, grab Berry and Lewin and run. We will distract the Masked Ones while you escape. Steven is waiting for you, down the road."

_We?_ Jasmine wanted to ask. _Who is we?_ But Zerry had turned back to Rust, and his voice shook rather convincingly as he said, "I cannot do it. My hands are still sore from my escapades outside the camp, and the wire is especially tight."

The Masked Ones shifted restlessly, and a sigh fluttered through their ranks. Frowning, Rust stepped forward and -

"Now!" Zerry shrieked.

Jasmine exploded to her feet, hauling Barda up with her, the wire having snapped easily from the small boy's clever twisting. In a second, she had cut open the bag that held Kree, and her beloved blackbird burst from it in a flurry of tousled feathers. He launched himself at Quill, causing the eagle-man to drop his knife in favor of shielding his eyes from Kree's attacks. Plug had snatched up Zerry, who immediately began struggling and biting.

"Get them!" Rust cried.

Darting out of the grasp of the masked man that grabbed for her, Jasmine spun around to look for Lief, only to find herself face to face with the long knife he had taken from the lizard-faced man. Somewhere to their right, Barda cursed and knocked a Masked One to the ground with the flat of his sword.

Lief's eyes, wild behind Bede's adulthood mask, bore into hers for a long moment, daring her to move. Carefully, she whispered, "Listen to me now. You are not Lewin of Broome. You are not a Masked One. This is not your place, and you know it. You belong with us, Jasmine and Barda of Del. You are the King -"

Lief brought the blade back violently in preparation to strike, but before anyone had the time to blink, Jasmine had ducked forward and looped the Belt around his waist, closing the clasp.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Lief screamed in pure agony, back arching, as the Belt blazed with fierce, defiant light. Jasmine caught him in her arms as he fell, carrying them both to the ground.

A horrible burning smell filled her nose, and Lief tore at the mask on his face. It fell away, rolling in the dirt, the gorgeous blue feathers smoldering into ashes. Lief had his hands pressed to his face, his breath coming in pained sobs, and Jasmine shuddered when she saw blood seep through his fingers.

There was sudden silence around the camp as the glow from the Belt faded. Happiness and honor faded to grey almost immediately, and honesty, hope, and strength dimmed sadly. However, faith glowed steadily. Even brighter was the talisman of luck, the lapis lazuli, each miniature pinprick of light glowing brighter than the stars. Slowly, hands shaking violently, Lief wiped the blood off of his face, wincing. His eyes focused on Jasmine's worried face, and he smiled in a rather confused manner. "What happened?"

Rust was the first to win the struggle of regaining her composure. Although her masked face revealed nothing, her voice was trembling with blind hatred, "I was wrong. You are not a spy. You are the tyrant of Del, King Lief himself!"

Lief glanced at her, surprised. Then his eyes darkened with memory. With Jasmine's aid, he got to his feet, brushing himself off. "So it seems," he said dryly. As an afterthought, he pulled the golden carved ring off his finger and tossed it to Talon. The lizard-faced man caught it deftly, and then promptly began wiping it off on his pants, as if it was contaminated. "Yet we are cousins, Rust, or have you forgotten? Are you callous enough to kill your own kin?"

Jasmine and Barda blinked. The inner circle shifted, mumbling uncomfortably. The air around Rust seemed to shimmer, as if her hatred was a tangible thing. "You are no kin of mine," she grated out. And launched herself with a wild cry. Zerry let out a single, high shriek that sounded more like a name than a random exclaimation.

The morning sky almost heaved, and it was as if a great tear appeared in it, though really it was nothing of the sort. There was a glimpse of the night sky, splattered with stars, before the dragon of the lapis lazuli dropped its camouflage completely, and leapt forward with a bellow. The fox-faced woman was knocked away by a spiked tail as easily as if she was a fly. Her flight was cut short by a wagon, and she crumpled to the ground.

Forgetting about the threat, Quill gave an anguished yell and dashed over to her. Kree screeched in triumph, wheeling around and returning to Jasmine. Somehow, Zerry was there as well, grin spread all over his face. The inner circle was drawing away, fright etched onto their faces.

The dragon turned its glowing, starry eyes to Lief. _We should leave now, King of Deltora,_ it said into his mind, musical voice amused. _The_ _woman of Del will survive, but they are well distracted at the moment, and soon the worm-infested water will begin to take its toll on the weak hide of their innards. And you have healing of your own to do._

Feeling dazed by everything that had happened so suddenly, Lief could do nothing but agree. With Jasmine and Barda by his side, Zerry trotting along behind them, Kree a familiar shape in the sky above them and Filli chattering excitedly on Jasmine's shoulder, they followed the slender beast away from the camp. Nobody looked back.

As Zerry had told Jasmine, Steven was waiting for them not far away. Only faintly put off by the presence of the dragon, he strode over to them, his face alight with relief. "The plan worked, then?" he inquired, pulling them into the shade of his caravan.

Barda shrugged. "We succeeded, at any rate."

"By the heavens, it is a miracle to see you alive and in one piece!" the peddler told Lief, giving him a clean cloth to press against his wounds to stop the bleeding. "When I heard Jasmine and Barda's story, I was certain we had seen the last of you! When the Masked Ones want something, they are not easily denied."

Lief glanced over at the silent figure of the dragon of the lapis lazuli. Noticing his look, it grinned wickedly. He bowed his head to it. "I thank you for your aid, dragon of the lapis lazuli."

It preened its expansive wings with its sickle-moon claws, and said dismissively, "Oh, do not thank me." It exchanged a meaningful look with Zerry, before turning its gaze back to him. "You are blessed with many loyal friends, King of Deltora."

Lief looked at those gathered around him. Barda, who was muttering an oath as he probed the sore spot over his eye. Zerry, crafty eyes shining, one hand stroking the horse's mane. Steven, shaking his golden head in admiration. Jasmine, accompanied by Kree and Filli as always, not caring that he had almost injured her moments before, reaching out to grasp his hand.

"Yes," Lief murmured, his heart very full. "Yes, I am."

¤

la fin

¤

"Blessed are the cracked, for they let in the light."


End file.
